Life and Death
by Litzana
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short stories about Life and Death. Rated K just in case, but very little mature stuff if anything. Except the subject matter, I suppose. Reviews would be nice.
1. Death

Hello folks! It's me, back for the first time in years!

Unfortunately, I lost a lot of my inspiration for my old fics. I may pick them back up again, but don't wait on it.

Here's a short story, though; about Life and Death.

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Part 1: Death

On the enormous, plush bed, surrounded by silk cushions, velvet drapes and hooded, praying monks, was an old man. He was bald, as you might expect, and his facial features were lost in wrinkles, as you also might expect.

This man was also 169. And he was dying.

But he didn't mind. After all, if you've lived the amount of lifetimes he had, would you mind dying? It was, after all, a break. A vacation, if you will. Yes, crossing the Black Desert was his summer holiday, and at the end... well, he'd be reborn.

The chanting of the monks turned into a muted mumble as he closed his eyes for the last time. Saved his colleagues from doing it. He always saw it as a rather grisly task.

Then he re-opened them, and surveyed his flock. One or two of his newest acolytes were crying, bless them. He'd make them cry more when he got back. No time for crying in his monastery.

Then his eyes crossed one hooded figure who wasn't kneeling, praying, mumbling or crying. But then, this man wasn't one of his flock.

This man was wearing black. And he carried a scythe.

This man was an old friend.

The hood turned towards him, and two pinpricks of blue flared in the darkest void of the figure's eyes. He smiled; but, then, he didn't really have any option not to.

**ARE YOU READY? **

The old man shivered as the figure's voice passed through him. But he wasn't really old any more; his body was that of the young man his soul belonged to. The young, innovative man who'd made a deal not with Death... but with Life.

He smiled, and held out a hand. "Always."

And the scythe came down.

The young man always closed his eyes for that bit. It made him shiver, watching the cold, slightly blue metal of Death's scythe pass through the cord connecting him to his earthly home. But the next time he opened his eyes, he was a little more solid - at least to himself. And his sandaled feet stood on sand as black as ash. He kicked some up, and it floated down again.

He took a breath, even though there wasn't really any air here. This was a place for the dead, and the dead didn't breathe. But he retained some old habits anyway. Habits made one seem... human. And humanity he needed to keep. This would be a long-ish journey.

**YOU KNOW THE DRILL.** The black figure next to him shifted slightly.

The young man looked sideways at his current companion, confusion briefly crossing his face. "You aren't coming with me? At least a little of the way? You normally do."

**PLAGUE IN LLAMEDOS. DRUID GONE BAD. **The figure turned his head, the points of light within the empty socets focusing on the young man.** YOU KNOW HOW IT IS. BUSY, BUSY, BUSY.**

"Oh... Alright." The young man looked towards the mountains to the... um... Directions didn't really matter here. To the thataway. "I'll see you later, then."

**INDEED. ADIEU, AS THEY SAY IN... QUIRM, I THINK. TELL THE OTHER ONE I SAID HELLO.**

"I always do."

And as the figure turned in the opposite direction to the mountains and faded into the distance, the young man took his first step.

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Part 2 up soon.


	2. Life

2\. Life

"Three... Four... Three hundred and forty nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four."

This was where he stopped. He'd been counting his footsteps ever since the Door, and now he was over the mountains - or was he? They still seemed so far away. Maybe they were a backdrop that the mind put in to make infinity seem less empty.

Hmm. That was a good one. If he remembered it when he got back, he'd have to write it down.

Nevertheless, this was where he stopped. And stood. And stared at the black sand... which seemed a little less black now. More grey.

He smiled. This was the Border, the end of Death and the beginning of something... newer.

_hello_

There it was... the feeling of accompaniment. He smiled. "Hello."

_still haven't lost yourself, i see_

The words were... interesting. Like Death's, they had a certain... quality about them, where the brain reported words where the ears didn't register a single sound. But unlike Death's, whose voice rang in your mind, dominated your thoughts, shouted I AM HERE at the back of your mind... these were quiet. Insidious. They crept in, like the jingle of a morning chime, whispered i am here into your thoughts and then politely waited to see if you had heard. But they didn't mind if you didn't... they would wait for acknowledgement.

"The counting helps. And the breathing. Can't really remember my name, though."

_it'll come back to you_

* * *

It had scared him, the first time he heard it. He'd died, of course, and had walked the desert, and to pass the time, he'd used some meditation techniques his masters had taught him, because he'd been informed it would be a long trip. And, after an average of three hundred and fifty thousand steps - it was usually around that mark, anyway - he'd heard a voice. It had said_ this way_.

And, because he was a rather pragmatic monk, he'd responded "Why?"

The feeling of shock and speechlessness that had rolled over him was overwhelming at the time. He'd stopped walking, looked around, tried to find the source of the voice.

_you will not see me_ it had said.

"Why?" He had asked again.

_i have no form, i simply happen_ was the soft reply. And then, again, _this way_

He'd felt pulled, in a certain direction, and so he'd walked further. And with so many questions resounding in his mind, he'd asked the most obvious; "Who are you?"

_i have no name, i simply am_ was the reply. And as he got used to the voice, he'd begun to feel a sense of companionship. Something was there, something unseen, walking alongside him.

"Nonsense," he'd replied. "Everything has a name."

_no_

"Yes." This was... fun, he'd realised at the time. Word games with an invisible thing on the way to the afterlife.

_there is no after life_

That had taken him aback. No afterlife? Surely his Masters weren't liars. Not to mention his invisible, formless, nameless companion had just read his thoughts. Which were suddenly swirling with questions. "What do you mean?" Was the neutral ground he settled on.

_you should be empty, you should not remember_

"Why shouldn't I?"

_so you can be born anew, without the burden of your past_

More questions, his mind was full of them. "So is the afterlife a lie?"

_no_

He'd got the sense his companion was waiting for something. He'd wracked his brains, searching for the answer. Then, in a moment of pure clarity, it struck him clear in the forehead, like a brick. "This is the afterlife. But the black desert takes away your memories. So you think you're walking to the afterlife, but by the time you've gone far enough to question why you aren't there yet, you can't remember why you're walking at all!"

_as good an explanation as any_

"Diabolical." He'd shaken his head. "So why can I remember?"

_i don't know_

"Has no-one ever remembered?"

_no_

He'd realised he'd still been walking. He'd tried to stop his feet, but they seemed to be operating on a different system than his brain. The sand had progressed through dark grey to light grey to white, and was heavy under his feet. "What lies this way?"

_rebirth_

"Like reincarnation?"

_perhaps_

"Can I influence what I can be?"

_perhaps_

"Don't you know?"

_not with you_

The light was blinding now, and squeezing him just a little. And still his feet kept walking him onwards. "Will I remember this?"

_we shall see when i see you again_

And then the voice had faded and he'd emerged from the light, soaking wet, into the arms of a person a lot bigger than he was. He remembered feeling a little disgruntled about it all, and wanting to loudly voice that opinion.

* * *

"I know it'll come back. I just don't know if it'll come back before or after they give me one." As he spoke, the nudge happened, and he felt his feet continue. But this time, instead of just a voice, and a feeling, there were footprints in the white sand next to him.

"You're getting a form, I see."

_just a little one_

"It'll get bigger."

_thank you_

He'd cracked it. He'd found out who and what this voice was, in his... sixth life, maybe? A long time ago, anyway. And he'd realised, that this being had told the absolute truth; it wasn't anything. It just happened.

But he'd been telling people about it. He'd drawn pictures; in crayon scribbles, before he'd been taken back to the monastery. Before they'd found out. He'd drawn the desert turning from black to white. He'd drawn the companion, all in white, because it did him justice, and anyway, his opposite was black.

And people had started to believe him.

People had started to believe.

And with belief, came imagining and with imagining came concretion. People believed in Death and voila, there he was.

And there, too, was the squeezing.

"I hope to finally see you next time," was his parting comment.

And then he emerged, from the light, soaking wet, into the arms of a person a lot bigger than he was. He felt a little disgruntled about it all, and wanted to loudly voice that opinion.

But in the back of his mind, one thought resounded, round and round.

Life happens. But it doesn't have to be unknown.

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There you are; Part two. Leave a review if you liked and want more!


	3. Musings

3\. Musings

He decided to walk with the Abbot this time. He had time - in fact, He had all the time in the world, and if He needed more, it would be provided. It was in His job description, after all.

He liked talking to the man. The casual wisdoms disguised as even more casual witticisms and jokes helped Him gain an insight into the human mind, and He felt that the Abbot appreciated the company too.

But regardless of how far He walked with the Abbot, there was always one place He could not go. He stood there, at the edge of the grey sands, watching the shade's back walk into the distance, talking animatedly with a being he could not see.

It was always the way. He didn't feel bad, after all; the old boy was in good hands with the Other One, and it was after all good that Life had found someone to talk to, even if it was a brief conversation every hundred and fifty or so years.

Death worried for Life.

He knew He shouldn't. After all, worry was a human emotion, human emotions had no place in the grand scheme of the Duty. But still.

Life had been in a bad way ever since people had started to forget about Him. Although He'd never been particularly in a good way; He'd had a strong, but small base of believers and had managed a passable existence based off of their belief, but after they'd been disastrously wiped out in an earthquake that shook half the Disc* He'd... dwindled. Afterwards, for a time, He'd just been a voice, existing on the strength of Death's belief alone**; that, and the tiny shreds of belief He received from the empty souls He shepherded.

It was nice that people were taking notice again. The problem was, Life never left any evidence He was there; He didn't walk the Disc like Death did. His place wasn't amongst the mortals and He knew it. The people He worked with forgot about him near-instantly, or didn't know enough to remember him once they came out the other side.

Death was natural. People accepted it - and therefore Him - as a fact of life and therefore they believed in Him. But as for Life... it just happened. No-one cared much about where souls came from, or how babies got them; they simply attributed it to their various creator gods and said no more about it.

The white sand oozed into the shape of footprints on the other side of the grey border as Life returned. Death felt a brief acknowledgement and a slight questioning feeling from the other but He waved it away.

I'M THINKING.

He got another acknowledgement, and then the footprints oozed away again, with another - slightly more empty shade. In silence.

Death turned and began the walk back towards the black sand, firmly back into His territory.

I'LL CHECK IN AGAIN SOON. NICE TO SEE YOU'RE IMPROVING. MAYBE NEXT TIME WE CAN HAVE A LITTLE CHAT.

* * *

*Death had felt terrible having to pick them up.

**Death believed very strongly in Life. There had to be balance after all. Otherwise anything could happen.

As you can probably tell, these writings are just my thoughts, really. Reviews are still nice though!


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